Only Human
by Spectering
Summary: She only wanted to be happy. Happiness shouldn't be a myth.
1. Dreams

_This is a future-fic. A 'what if.' A 'why not?' I think it will only be 3 parts, maybe 4. This is part one._

 _She makes a change the rocks everything they know. She only wanted to be happy. Happiness shouldn't be a myth._

* * *

Donna looks across the table at a surprisingly pregnant Rachel. She's drinking for two tonight, unexpectedly. They had ordered drinks for the table while waiting for Rachel and Louis to arrive before the news broke that the woman couldn't drink after all. She, on the other hand, has just entered into a world where she can actually drink so she has no qualms in drinking both her own glass and her friend's glass.

She had asked all of her friends to get together so she could tell them the big news. She was flying to Los Angeles in the morning for an audition. It might not be a major role on primetime television or a minor role in a movie, but it's a job that would definitely pay the bills.

Ever since Mike's arrest, everyone's lives have changed drastically. Rachel and Mike rushed their wedding so she wouldn't be forced to testify against him in court and she is pretty sure one of those conjugal visits is what knocked Rachel up. Mike's served half of his sentence already and he's up for parole by year's end. Louis has been in an annoyingly good mood, not that she's worked for him for a few years now. Not since Christopher was born. The bar even revoked Harvey's right to practice law in New York and he's ended up somewhere in the world of sports. He doesn't make half as much as he did at the law firm.

But, as Rachel rambles on about her news and how she's about to embark on this incredibly terrifying journey on her own, Donna just can't bring herself to tell her friends the good news. Louis is running late anyway so she certainly couldn't break the ice with that. She downs her glass of wine and begins nursing the other glass in hopes that further into the dinner she will get a viable opportunity.

As Louis seems to appear out of nowhere, pressing a chaste kiss against both her own and Rachel's cheeks, she looks over at Harvey. She silently pleads with him to play nice. The two men haven't been in the same room for almost two months now and that ended in a rather aggressive brotherly bickering. Harvey is too distracted playing with Christopher, just over two years old now.

Christopher is sitting on Harvey's lap and throwing punches into her old boss's open palm. The harder hits seem to result in equally as hard high fives and the softer ones consist of Harvey catching the tiny fist before they both giggle quietly. Harvey's really good with the kid, just like she had always believed he would be.

"Donna. Rachel. Harvey. Sorry I'm late," Louis says as he scoots his chair closer to the table and drapes the napkin over his lap, demanding her attention to return to the late arrival. "I got held up at the office."

"Oh yeah?" Harvey replies teasingly from her right, "I thought you were going to bring that secret girlfriend of yours so we could all finally believe she exists."

She immediately shoots a glare at Harvey who rolls his eyes and returns to bonding with Christopher. She looks back to Louis and reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers with her own. She says, "We're just glad you made it."

Between Louis' issues with his secret girlfriend and Rachel's fears about her solo pregnancy, she doesn't get a chance to tell her friends her big news.

* * *

"I can do this by myself, you know," he mutters. She looks over at Christopher who is fast asleep in Harvey's arms and bites her bottom lip to conceal her pout. She wants to reach out and touch the child but she doesn't, she's trying to respect the agreement. "It's not like this is our first night alone together."

"It's your first weekend," she reminds him.

He rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night but remains relatively unaffected by her mindset. They are walking side by side as they make their way to his apartment; he doesn't live too far from the restaurant. He had down sized to a two bedroom sometime after Christopher came along and now lives much closer to her. They aren't too far now.

"A three day weekend, too," he teases, "Are we going to have company by morning time?"

"No," she muses. Donna knows this would be the perfect time to tell him that she's flying thousands of miles away in the morning for a job opportunity, but she can't bring herself to say anything in reference to it. Instead, she tightens her grasp on Christopher's duffle bag as their steps echo in synchronicity. "I'll stay away. I think you deserve it after last time."

"You mean when he got sick from that jerk at daycare and kept telling me he wanted to go home?" Harvey clarifies, "Yeah, that was a real treat."

"You're his favorite person in the world," she replies, "You know that."

"I'm maybe his second favorite person, if I'm lucky," he says, a playful huff spurting out between his lips. They reach his apartment building and their steps slow. He gives her his signature smirk, something she doesn't see any more unless it's directed at her or Christopher these days. "Let me guess, you're coming up?"

"I just want to tuck him in," she replies.

Her feigned innocence is promptly ignored by him as he mumbles a _yeah yeah_ and holds open the door for her to enter before him. The door closes gently behind them, a rule established from Harvey's landlord because the door once stayed open for 2 days straight, and they freely climbs the two flights of stairs to the third floor. Harvey unlocks the front door and twists the handle, pushing the door open to reveal a much homier looking place than the condo he once lived in.

Donna's been here too many times to count. Their co-parenting is extremely amicable considering the amount of times they have disagreed, but they often spend evenings together just so he can get ample time with his son and so Christopher can catch a small glimpse of a life that is considered societal normal. They had decided to do this as friends; it is always the better idea to prioritize their friendship just below their co-parenting.

She follows Harvey into Christopher's bedroom and sets his bag of necessities, including the things he refuses to be without, at the end of his bed before she pulls back the blankets. She steps out of the way so that Harvey can lean over and lay Christopher into a prime sleeping position. She sits on the side of the low bed and peels his shoes off to place on the floor. She promptly stands and Harvey pulls the blanket up to Christopher's chin. Christopher moves slightly into a more comfortable position as she tucks the blanket in around him and proceeds to kiss his forehead.

She watches him for just a few more moments before she finds it in herself to move away and let him sleep. It's harder for her to part with him than she ever could have imagined, but he made her feel more fulfilled with her life. Christopher was an idea that she had given up on long ago, but when Mike went to prison and Harvey was disbarred everything about the life she had known had changed drastically. The love she wanted was never going to come for her and she couldn't keep waiting on the man she'd always secretly hoped would love her back to actually do so. Instead, she had decided to take action and do something for herself. Harvey's life was upside down until the day she'd told him and some spark of life was rediscovered within him at the idea of having a child.

He needed something worth living for and she just couldn't tell him no.

Her hands feel empty now that she doesn't have anything to busy them with since discarding Christopher's duffle bag in his bedroom. As she leaves him alone in his bedroom with the knowledge that she won't see him until Monday after school, which technically constitutes as four days in her mind, she finds it hard to not look back at the growing child. Harvey is directly behind her, pulling the door shut to leave a small crack just in case.

She lingers for a moment, knowing that she should inform him on her audition in Los Angeles, but when she looks him in the eye she knows she can't. He was falling apart until Christopher and taking his son away would just send him straight back to that same stretch of bewilderment. She doesn't want to do that, doesn't want to cause him the kind of panic she knows he will have over nothing. So, she bites her tongue for now and decides not to tell him.

Harvey offers her a soft smile as they enter into the living room, wiping his palms on his thighs. She doesn't understand why he looks so nervous when they've been in this position nearly a hundred times before. She watches his throat bob as he swallows. He looks nervous himself, like he has something to tell her but he can't.

She furrows her brows then and says, "You look like you want to tell me something."

"Who? Me? No," he says with a slight shake of his head, "Can I get you a drink? Some wine, perhaps?"

Her gaze sharpens on him as she studies him. Nothing about his appearance looks particularly out of place, not for his closet these days. Although he does make a substantial amount of money, he no longer wears $10,000 suits and the ones that he does wear are usually straight out of last season's catalogue. It was a sight she had to adjust to, but her own lifestyle has been downsized as well. She no longer wears the freshist designers and has a more reserved wardrobe of pantsuits, blouses that can easily be alternated with skirts, and a much smaller shoe closet. They both returned to their wardrobe of their younger selves, the simplest of their treasures now being transferred to their shared child. There isn't anything alarming in his khaki pants and button up shirt.

She releases a breath, giving up her suspicions. She shakes her head, denying his offer. She says, "I should probably get home, let you have him all to yourself."

"He's asleep," Harvey counters, "I'm not missing out on any bonding time with you being here."

"I shouldn't," she replies.

He nods then, his shoulders slump and his shirt seemingly swallows him with the movement. He says, "Let me call you a cab then."

"I've got it," she says definitively. He doesn't try again, just follows her towards the front door as she forces herself to leave before she can't. She grabs the door by the handle and turns towards him. He's standing close to her now, like their nightly ritual of tear-jerking goodbyes isn't getting old. It's been years and they still aren't entirely passed it now, some old saying about things left unsaid playing in the background. "Call me if you need anything."

"Donna," he says forcefully, "You know I will."

She nods, her eyes glazing with the realization that she isn't going to see that beautiful little blonde carbon copy of Harvey's face. She pulls the door open, his hand instinctively lifting towards her face but hanging in the air in front of her. She turns before he can touch her, excusing herself for the evening. She closes the door before he says anything else, stands there to wipe at the mist beneath her eyes as she composes herself before going downstairs.

It takes a few short breaths before she feels prepared enough to descend the stairs. When she finally reaches the lobby, the cute neighbor girl who lives on the second floor is getting her mail. She doesn't manage to skip out unnoticed as her feet echo throughout the otherwise silent room. She smiles at the girl.

"Hey," the girl says with a chirpy voice, "You coming from that lawyer guy's apartment?"

"He's not a lawyer anymore. He retired," she replies. Lying to protect him has always been part of her second nature.

"Are you his girlfriend or somethin'?" She asks.

On that note, she wants to duck out and avoid the conversation all together. Harvey hates personal questions and this young girl is only accosting her for one reason only. This girl is obviously interested in Harvey. If he's going to date someone, she reserves the right to know whoever it is if the woman is going to be around her son. She quirks an eyebrow and plays up her charming side.

"We share a kid but, no, we don't date," she says sweetly. The girl turns slightly shier then, her cheeks filling with a shade of embarrassment. She can't help herself as the old predatory version of herself kicks it into high gear. She reaches out and starts playing with the girl's hair. "You have really pretty hair. Are you interested in him?"

"Oh, we've never spoken," she answers, shrinking into herself, "I've just seen you around. I thought you guys made a cute couple. You're always laughing and so comfortable with each other."

"Oh," she says, throwing her shoulders back as she puts herself into check, "He's my best friend, but we've never dated."

"That's too bad," the girl replies with a shrug.

The girl slams her mail locker shut and runs up the stairs. Donna watches the girl disappear, feeling a little guilty over how intimidating she was for absolutely no reason. She shifts her gaze to the locker and reads the name printed on it, _K. Wilson_. She'll have to send Harvey's neighbor some apology flowers or something like that.

K. Wilson's words stick out in her mind well into the morning.

* * *

The bedroom door cracking open takes his attention away from the article on his phone that he's been boring himself with for the last half hour. He's become an insomniac as he's gotten older – tiring himself so he can actually fall asleep on the nights that he doesn't spend with his son. And with Donna. He never forgets that without her sticking around then he still wouldn't have anything worth living for. On the days he doesn't see her and Christopher he feels very…alone.

He feels diminished, like his value in this world is uncertain and everyone turned their backs on him. He barely sees Jessica except for a customary monthly dinner where she continues to float the bill no matter how times he protests. A get together with Louis ends in bickering nine times of ten, mostly because the smug bastard gloats about his work at any given point, and Harvey needs a mediator in the form of Donna (and in very worst case scenarios Christopher) to even get through the night. It's awkward seeing Rachel except for when Donna pleads with him to make an effort. He hasn't even been able to go to the prison facility where Mike is for a visit in over two years. He feels like a shitty person most of the time.

He shines the light from his phone in the direction of the door and says, "You okay?"

Christopher proceeds into the room and Harvey sits up in preparation to help the kid onto the bed. The kid settles into the bed beside him, snuggling into the pillow that never gets used. Christopher's tiny hands wrap around Harvey's bicep as he discards his phone onto the nightstand.

"I miss mommy," Christopher whines quietly.

Harvey feels Christopher's chin drop to his shoulder and leans his temple against Christopher's forehead. He swallows, wishing he could swallow his thoughts. He says, "Me too, Buddy."

He feels so vulnerable in this moment but knows that Christopher would never repeat his words at this stage. The day she had told him she wanted to have a baby he had jumped on the confession as a way to keep her from going anywhere. They are tied together for the rest of their lives and that's what he'd always wanted. It isn't even like the feeling of missing her is a new development. He's always missed her in some capacity, always missed being with her and felt desperate to act on his love for her.

It's nothing new.

* * *

She feels very unprepared the moment she steps off of the plane. She'd been able to distract her thoughts with a little lite reading on the plane, but the sunshine of Los Angeles is nothing but an eye opener. The sunlight blares directly into her face on the west coast, unlike the city streets of New York where she gets some peace from the spotlight. The sunniest spot in the whole city is Shakespeare Garden in Central Park.

She hails a cab from the airport and takes it straight to the studio where she will audition for a role in _Days of Our Lives_. Her agent had convinced her to do it even though it was on the complete opposite side of the country. She had agreed because she needed to be able to provide for Christopher. Even with Harvey's help, now that they are both living much different lifestyles than they once were, she worries that some days the kid won't have everything that he needs.

Part of her had maybe hoped that getting a job in Los Angeles would propel the possibilities of them being a true family into action. K. Wilson's observation had not been a rare occurrence. Even Rachel has told her on multiple occasions that they appear to be a couple and relatively domestic. If that's the case, she sometimes wonders why they aren't together. She hopes the idea of her moving thousands of miles away will kick him into high gear.

First, she just has to nail the audition.

* * *

"Donna Paulsen?" A woman asks, voice monotone and sounding extremely tired of the entire ordeal, as she looks over Donna's resume.

She throws her shoulders back and stands tall, her heels making her even taller. If Harvey were here she'd be able to look him directly in the eye, maybe even stare him down. She feels confident, maybe even overly confident – confident enough that she could stride right up to the father of her child and tell him that they are moving to Los Angeles as a unit.

"Yes?"

"Great. Let's get started," the woman says, peering at Donna over her glasses, "What do you do in your free time?"

She pauses there, not entirely sure the best way to answer this question. She's a 41 year old woman who doesn't have a steady job, a rich life, a husband or a boyfriend, and is the mother of a toddler. She doesn't even know how to describe what her hobbies are. She wavers in her confidence under the vapid stare of the casting woman. Her counterparts look less than thrilled on either side of her.

Donna gathers herself faster than she even could have imagined; she says, "I do yoga, drink a little wine, and headline a few off Broadway plays every few months. I had a kid two years ago but he won't be a problem."

"Married? Divorced?"

She half smirks and lightly shakes her head; she says, "No. He's around a lot, we're just not…together."

"You're over forty, Donna," the woman says, "Why get into television acting now?"

"I worked at a law firm that was highly demanding of my time and I enjoyed the very lavish life that job allowed me to live," she replies, sighing as she takes in all of the years she put herself on hold for Harvey – not because he asked her to but because she didn't want to part with him. She shrugs and adds, "I just didn't go after what I really wanted. I am now."

"Let's proceed," the woman states. There's a hint of a smile threatening the corners of the woman's mouth. She buries her excitement deep down.

* * *

"Uh?" His breath hangs in the air as they literally run into each other at daycare.

She furrows her brows in response, squinting as she takes in his appearance. He looks tired, hands in his pockets like he's having a bad day. She recognizes the gesture as him trying to appear less bothered by something than he really is, but he looks like he's a wreck. She wonders what happened since she last saw him Thursday night. His three day weekend with Christopher turned into 3 days and 4 nights, the man should be ecstatic.

She paints a smile on her face, her hair catching in the wind before they have even entered the daycare building.

He swallows and continues; "I thought I was picking him up and meeting you at your apartment."

"Why don't we just go in together," she says, gesturing to the front door. She feels him giving her the once over and she feels a little exposed in a pair of black jeans and a purple silky button up top. She didn't expect she'd run into him. He waves his hand, motioning her to go ahead, and she wonders if he's looking at her curiously. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"It was great," he says through his teeth. He's lying. She knows he's lying because she's heard him lie to people over the course of 16 years because it's been his job, but it's rarely ever been directed at her. She's concerned about what went wrong. He shrugs as he opens the door for her and follows her inside. She hears, "Missed you though."

"He got to see me every night before bed," she reasons. She gets it though. She missed Christopher, too, and the weekend away from him had been hard. She just kept reminding herself that she was doing it for him so she could get through the distance, even though she suspects she blew the audition. "It sounded like you two had fun."

"Oh, we did," Harvey counters, "But bed time was a battle. He did not like his routine being different than his routine with mommy."

"What did you do differently?"

"I wasn't you," he answers with a shrug.

His statement saddens her. She doesn't want for his time with Christopher to be contingent on their son's need or want to be with her. She feels bad that Harvey feels slighted from his weekend with their son, but she can only hope that it changes drastically over time.

"I'm sorry, Harvey," she mutters, reaching up and lightly touching his arm.

They round the corner to the entryway of the daycare where they pick Christopher up 4-5 days a week. Their shoulders are touching as they come to a halt. They stand there in silence and watch as it takes Christopher a few moments to realize they're there. He sees them and nearly lights up like a Christmas tree. Harvey digs his hands into his pockets as she adopts a soft smile.

"Mommy!" Christopher screams excitedly as he jumps to his feet and runs into her arms.

"And I'm practically invisible," Harvey mutters.

She smirks as she hugs Christopher to her. She says, "I missed you, Buddy. Did you miss me?"

"Yeah!" He screams.

She pulls back to look him in the eye. She asks, "Is it okay if Daddy comes over? He really wants to tuck you in tonight."

* * *

Christopher has fallen asleep with his head on her lap and his legs draped across Harvey's lap. Christopher was clinging to her side until he fell asleep nearly half an hour ago, and it made her feel better. Part of her had been afraid that he wouldn't miss her at all. It's hard wanting to be the favorite parent but also wanting Harvey to be the favorite parent.

"The bottle's empty," Harvey says, the green wine bottle perched in his grasp as he turns it upside down over her empty glass. She feels her cheeks become warm with the slightest hint of embarrassment. She hates being embarrassed because her skin lights up red and the flush sticks to her skin for hours. She thinks she drank the whole bottle by herself save for one glass. "Want me to open the other one?"

She lightly shakes her head, reaching over and patting Christopher on the stomach. She says, "We should probably get this one to bed."

"I'll get him," Harvey insists, putting the bottle back on the surface of the coffee table as he pulls back. He lifts Christopher's legs from his lap and stands before she can even react. He lifts Christopher in his arms, cupping the back of his head out of habit. "I'll be back."

He disappears down the hallway, the shadows engulfing him, towards Christopher's bedroom. She stands, deciding to clear the bottle and empty glasses to the kitchen while she contemplates how exactly to tell him that she went to Los Angeles. She's been trying to tell him all evening but hasn't been able to get it out. Not while Christopher was awake, and since Christopher fell asleep, she's been too busy staring at his mouth while he was speaking idly about something work related.

She ditches the glasses and bottle in the kitchen and goes back into the living room determined to tell him. She almost runs into him, but he steps back quickly and catches her by the arms. They are an arm's length apart.

She says, "Harvey, I-"

He darts quickly towards her, his mouth succumbing hers as he kisses her. His index finger curls under her chin, guiding her closer as he meets her halfway. Her own hands find his sides with ease, fingers pressing into his ribcage as they form around the depths of him. The taste of his tongue sticks to her lips. She absently licks her lips there, allowing him access to delve his tongue into hers.

His scent reminds her of all of the times she held Christopher almost too tight after he got home from a night at Harvey's just so she could smell Harvey on Christopher's clothes. The pads of his fingers pressing against her neck begs with her, burns her skin as he etches his slightly calloused fingers along her hyperaware flesh. His lips are softer than she remembers, warmer and more inviting than memory serves like he's trying to tell her secrets she doesn't know. She hasn't kissed him in so long (the memory has faded but the sensation remains). She is scarred by the promise of him, by this unfulfilled prophecy that someday, someday, someday –

is here beneath her fingers as she grasps on tight and can't let go.

She should pull back and say, _"We shouldn't…Christopher."_

She should pull back and say, _"Harvey, don't."_

But she doesn't, she can't. She wants to but she's too selfish. She slides her hands down his ribcage, fingernails pressing against the material of his cotton shirt. Her hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, nails sliding over his torso on their trail to his back. He hisses into her mouth and it vibrates, tickles her tongue, in tune with him pushing his body against hers. Her back slams against the wall. His hands cup her cheeks instantly, angling her mouth more towards his.

It ends with them tangled in her sheets, him buried deep inside of her as he grasps both of her hands for dear life. It's better than any candle she's ever left burning, takes her higher than any building could. She forgets somehow that this isn't the way things have always been.

* * *

Harvey climbs the stairs to her apartment with a bouquet of flowers, white lilies and purple cushion poms and orange roses, and _Back to the Future_ in one hand, shitty Thai food in the other. He doesn't understand how the only food that made it through the war was that shitty Thai place – her pregnancy cravings were so off that by the time Christopher was born she wouldn't eat anywhere else. His disdain for that Thai place hasn't wavered but he knows her order by heart, knows that she likes it so much that he can, once again, put up with it for her.

He can hear his son alternating between screaming and laughing when he arrives at the door. He kicks the toe of his shoe on the wooden door because his hands are too full, and she hears some muffled version of _Your dad is here_ being yelled across the apartment. Although he loves Christopher, he's relieved when Donna answers the door. He audibly releases a breath of relief and leans against the doorframe.

"Hey," he says, a grin spreading across his mouth, "I brought your favorites: _Back to the Future_ and shitty Thai food."

"And what are these?" She asks, hands engulfing the flowers and she sticks her face into them. It was the gentlemanly thing to do to bring the woman flowers, especially given the rather undefined status of their relationship after the night before.

"A present for the pretty lady," he replies with a shrug.

She grasps the flowers by the stems and takes them from his hand, her fingers lingering against his for a nanosecond longer than what was probably deemed necessary. His heart lurches in his throat and beats there for a few moments. He just grins through it, trying not to let himself buy into what could just be false hope.

"Thank you, Harvey," she mutters. She looks so shy in this moment, like she doesn't know how to properly thank him or that words are even enough. Her eyes widen suddenly and it prompts him to furrow his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose creasing as the silent _what?_ rests on his lips. "I hope you brought enough food for four because Rachel was having a full-fledged break down and is coming over."

He swallows his initial reaction because Christopher runs up to throw his arms around Harvey's legs. He reaches his hand with the movie in it down and absently pats Christopher's back. The kid's tiny fists beat against the back of his thigh. He sighs then, not quite sure how they are ever going to talk about the night before. He shouldn't have left without waking her up.

"Why don't you go put this movie in, Buddy? It's mommy's favorite," he says. He's already tired of how this night is going to go.

* * *

She leans back slightly to peer at him sitting on the other side of Rachel. Her friend had managed to crash what potentially could have become some resemblance of a date. She doesn't even know why she's disappointed; it isn't like their evening thus far has been anything out of the ordinary. Rachel couldn't detect that anything had even happened between them. But when she looks at him, he looks back at her.

His eyes are soft, inviting and somewhat full of his younger self. She smiles gently, her eyes darting away from his intense stare. She can feel him all over her body, the warmth of him and the smell of him lingering around her all day. She doesn't know what any of this means and she is terrified to find out.

She feels pressure against her elbow and looks up to see that his fingers are resting against her arm from across the back of the couch. The movement is brief as Christopher wraps his hands around Harvey's upper arm and begins tugging. He moves his hand back, grabbing Christopher with both hands by the waist, and begins moving his legs really fast to create a vibrating motion for the boy.

There's something about this moment, with Rachel sitting between them, that makes her think about everything that brought them here. Many times over the years she has looked over at him with Christopher nuzzled in his arms, and thought that she's glad she's gone through life beside him. She sometimes forgets that they were barely lovers, sometimes friends, always colleagues but never more. She sometimes forgets that her partner in life hasn't really been her partner in life at all.

Half of her life has gone by and she's been dedicated to a man who might not even love her back.

* * *

They look like a couple when they tell Rachel goodbye. They look like a fucking couple and she just had never seen it before. His hand went to the small of her back like normal. He stood beside her at the door like normal. He played with Christopher like normal, even tucked him in like normal. The evening was absolutely normal.

Except for the fact that they absolutely looked like a couple. She had never seen the fact that their lifestyle strongly resembled a couple without romantic physical contact despite the romantic gestures being there. She had always justified it in one way or the other by calling it co-parenting and friendship, but they were undoubtedly emitting couple like behavior without the obligation of obvious commitment.

She asks herself what prompted the long time coming shift in their dynamic. Maybe her decision to go to that audition in Los Angeles and giving them time apart (multiple consecutive days) for the first time in almost 3 years allowed them both to get a glimpse of what their life would be like without the other in it. It isn't even that either had certainly expressed how they felt about their time apart. Not to mention that he hadn't even questioned her about where she had gone.

Usually if Christopher is staying at Harvey's, Donna is there until well after Christopher falls asleep before she goes home, and vice versa. She didn't make any appearance for 4 full days (which includes when she had asked Harvey on Sunday if Christopher could stay another night). For all she knew, Harvey thought she was having a weekend getaway with a man.

She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. How could she even consider another man when she has Harvey in her life and, save for an active sex life, he fits in the role of her significant other quite easily.

The fragility of the entire moment is weighing heavily on her.

She's putting the flowers in a vase, already regretting that she'd waited so long to do so, when he enters the kitchen. His hands are buried in his pockets, thumbs out and tapping against his hips. She wonders why he isn't saying anything.

"What were these for?" She finally asks.

He shrugs and pulls his hands from his pockets, closing the space between them to lean against the counter beside her. He says, "I wanted you to know that I don't regret what happened last night."

"Why now?" He seems to have built up some confidence as he reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He smiles then and she notes a little twinkle in his eyes. She pulls her hands away from the bouquet and presses her palms against the countertop. "I'm just wondering because we've known each other for such a long time and _that_ has never happened before."

"It happened once before," he corrects with a playful smirk.

She sighs, shaking her head and sliding away from his touch. She says, "Not like _that_."

"I missed you," he explains gently, "I just didn't know how to tell you that."

She nods once to acknowledge his words. She looks at him, her gaze becoming glazed over at the sight of the sincerity in his eyes. She wants to point out that he held her so tight that she thought he wouldn't ever let go, that she felt happy and unafraid of what that meant in the moment. She wants to say so much on the matter but, like him, she doesn't know how.

Instead, she rounds the counter and lays a hand on his chest. She pushes up to press her lips against his, lingering there to take in his warmth. She wants him to understand that everything she's done, she's doing for him or them or their son. She wants him to understand that he means more to her than she will allow to continue. It's now or never.

She pulls back and says, "Good night, Harvey."

She excuses herself to her bedroom with tears in her eyes.

* * *

Her phone rings from its place on the counter beside the bouquet of flowers Harvey brought her. Bob, her agent's name, lights up on the screen of her phone. She answers it, immediately putting it on speakerphone as she dips her bag of tea into the steaming mug of water.

"Hello," she greets. It's only been two days.

"Donna!" He screams excitedly.

"Please tell me that you have good news," she replies.

"Great news! They loved you!" He says, "Listen, I gotta run! But pack up, Sweetheart, you're moving to Los Angeles! We'll talk details later."

She feels like an asshole.

* * *

She's staring at Harvey. She realizes this is a thing she's doing when he looks up at her and grins. His grin is wide much like an athlete who has just won some sportsball thing. She's found it very hard to look him in the eye and return his enthusiasm since she found out about the part in Los Angeles. She's seen him the normal amount, but she doesn't feel secure enough to have the much needed conversation with Christopher around and when Christopher isn't around she is too distracted by Harvey…touching her in some capacity.

How can she speak when that man is looking at her? Or touching her?

She's been ignoring his gazes and avoiding his touches for so long that now when it happens her heart is beating too quickly to concentrate on anything beyond breathing. She always thought she was the level headed one out of the two of them. Turns out she was way wrong. She knows telling him will mean she is breaking his heart even if he really needs to know. And now.

She slowly smiles back at him, her elbows pressed on the table for support. She feels like she can't even hold herself upright when she looks him in the eye. She feels like a bigger version of the asshole he's always been considered to be. Their gazes and semi-intimate smiles are promptly interrupted by Christopher's palm slamming into Harvey's face and the slapping noise reverberates around the room, sifting through all of the chatter. She sits upright as well, her guilt temporarily forgotten.

Harvey immediately sits upright, pushing his palm into Christopher's back as he whispers something into the boy's ear. When she catches a glimpse of Christopher's face he has the trembling lip and his father's pout, and Harvey gently pushes him in the direction of his seat between them. She's been thoroughly impressed over the years by his ability to remain calm regarding Christopher, although his frustration right now has certainly taken up residence across his face.

Christopher climbs into his seat with her help. As he sits, she leans over and whispers, "You might want to apologize to Daddy. That really upset him."

"Sowwy, Daddy," Christopher mutters, leaning his pout against his arm as he lays them onto the table.

She looks up at Harvey, slowly, and he just shrugs in response as though to tell her that it won't be a big deal once Christopher is through with his pouting. She smiles and nods before shifting her gaze towards the entryway to check if Louis, who asked them all to join him for dinner and made the reservation, or Rachel have arrived yet. She doesn't see anyone who resembles them so she decides now is the perfect time to tell Harvey because he isn't distracted by a 2 year old.

"I need to tell you something," she says shakily.

She looks past Harvey. There is a waitress quickly approaching and part of her hopes the woman is coming to their table. Harvey resituates in his seat, leaning forward in his seat and recreating a much more jovial version of Christopher's position. His huge smile has returned.

"I'm listening," he says cheekily.

The woman stops at their table then, her hand finding the back of Harvey's chair as she smiles politely. She says, "My name's Roxanne. Can I start you with anything to drink while waiting on the rest of your party?"

"Waters for now," Donna replies quickly.

She nods and turns her attention to Harvey. She says, "And for you?"

He looks at her dumbly for a few moments, like he's hoping she'll come to the conclusion that Donna was ordering for all of them on her own. When Roxanne bats her eyelashes and says nothing, he sighs. He replies, "The water will be fine, like the boss said." The waitress disappears around the corner as he rolls his eyes. He looks to Donna again, lifting his eyebrows. He adds, "You were saying?"

She opens her mouth to speak when something seems to catch Harvey's eye and he quickly looks away from her towards the entry. She follows his gaze to see Louis walking in dangerously close to Scottie. Her eyes widen and she lightly begins to shake her head, not sure how to comprehend what she's seeing. Surely her eyes are lying to her. She looks back at Harvey just to find out if he's actually seeing what she's seeing. He's scowling, most definitely blindsided by this new development.

"Harvey, Donna," Louis says, "I believe you know Dana Scott."

"Good to see you again," Scottie says, charmingly. Donna snaps her eyes in Scottie's direction, surprised that the woman could pretend like nothing had ever transpired between any of them. Scottie's eyes land on Christopher and she smiles politely. "And who's this little guy?"

"Christopher," Harvey says in a monotone voice. A pouty faced Christopher sits up at his name. Donna has never felt more speechless in her entire life. She doesn't even know where to start.

She watches Scottie's face shift into an extremely overwhelmed and confused look. She points at Harvey and mutters, "He's yours?"

The blonde hair on Christopher undoubtedly belongs to Harvey. The slit eyes, long fingers and smile, too. His nose belongs to her, but their eyes are the same color so it's difficult to designate a sole owner of those. She usually says Christopher is a carbon copy of his father and she wouldn't be wrong.

"Louis didn't tell you," she says as an observation. Scottie's brows furrow as she weighs the options, sitting beside Harvey or sitting beside Donna and she decides on the lesser of two evils, sitting beside Harvey. Louis rushes over to push Scottie's chair in, much like Harvey had done for herself before anyone else arrived, and he sits in the chair beside her which leaves Rachel the seat beside Donna. Harvey's laughter is haughty yet quiet. "He's both of ours."

"So you're together?" Scottie asks. Her voice sounds genuinely congratulatory. Donna isn't fooled. "Congratulations."

Neither of them feel the need to explain. Harvey shrugs as Christopher slides out of his seat. He catches the kid before he can get too far and pulls him back onto his lap after the hitting mishap. Scottie is watching him with slightly parted lips, seemingly shocked by the entire situation. Donna watches Harvey's hand rub against Christopher's belly.

"How did you two reconnect?" Donna asks.

Scottie finally looks away from Harvey and over at Louis. Donna inwardly cringes when Scottie reaches over and lightly covers Louis' hand. The exchange is almost too weird and she doesn't think she'll ever get used to seeing it. Donna looks over at Harvey who is back to entertaining himself with Christopher. They should stop going to such nice restaurants for the potential scenes they keep making.

"We ran into each other at the courthouse," Scottie starts, "He invited me to the ballot and I found his knowledge impressive. So when he asked me for dinner, I thought why not."

"I am not going to get used to this," Harvey mutters.

Donna prepares herself for the cheeky reply from Scottie but before it arrives, Rachel does. She looks frazzled as she tucks a hair behind her ear and sits in the open seat beside Donna. She doesn't even notice that Scottie is sitting between Harvey and Louis, but when she does the entire table is suddenly filled with tension. Donna can literally hear crickets.

The silence is too thick. She opens her mouth and all that comes out is, "I'm moving to Los Angeles."

She can practically hear Harvey's jaw tense as he calmly stands up and sets Christopher into the empty chair. He excuses himself, walking away. Donna is watching Harvey's retreating form.

She's watching his heart break and she doesn't know how to stop it.


	2. Punches to the Gut

He's been sulking, at least that's what she's been calling it, for the last few weeks. He's angry. Rightfully so, he thinks. He has the right to be upset at the notion she'd made a drastic life change that affects both of them without ever talking to him. They talk about everything. He's pointedly not helping her pack her things while strategically standing in her way. It's a tad bit childish, he knows, but he's extremely tired from the entire situation. He's too old for this shit.

"You don't have to do this," he mutters.

Her composure falters – he sees it. It's a brief moment where her eyes crease in the middle between the brows like she actually considers what he's saying. Her hesitation results in her movement full force to shove a few items of her home décor into a box. She turns to him then, striding towards him with confidence. Her hands come dangerously close to his forearms, but she doesn't touch him. Boy is he glad she hasn't tried to touch him because his resolve would cave so fast.

She smiles softly. Her smile resembles sadness. He's almost certain that he isn't making this any easier on her. She nods slowly and crosses her arms over her chest, tightly like she's trying to protect herself from him. His heart squeezes tightly in his chest at the sight and he briefly wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like.

"Yes, I do," she replies. He watches her fingers tap against her arm. He thinks, hopes, that she's fighting the urge to touch him. He wants her to cave. "I have to do this for Christopher, for me, for us. We can start over if you just…"

She trails off like she's too afraid to complete her thought. He wants to hear what she has to say, but he's scared too. They both have their pride, both are to stubborn to give in, both have been too afraid of the other to live their life together no matter how they feel about one another. He cares about her, and he can't help the way his spine seems to sink inside of him. He hates seeing her so uncertain around him.

"What? If I what?" He asks, unfolding his arms and dropping his hands into the space between them.

"God," she mutters, lifting her hand and pushing her hair back out of her face. He ducks his head down, looking deeper into her gaze. He wants to kiss her, her lips full and parted in such an inviting way. She looks nervous and he thinks he can help. "Harvey, you can come with us. Move with us. We can be a family, the three of us."

"We are a family," he counters. His weight falters to his heels as he attempts to put some space between them. He sighs and looks away from her. He can't believe his ears. He's always considered her as his family and that was before they ever had a son together. "We see each other every day and you're choosing to leave that behind."

"I'm asking you to come with us," she repeats slowly, "We can be together."

"Is that why you had sex with me? You were trying to trick me into going to Los Angeles with you?" He feels himself getting warm. He doesn't want to get into this with her but he can't help thinking she had only slept with him because she was too afraid to leave him behind. He wanted it to mean something. He wanted her to be as in love with him as he is with her.

"You don't really think that," she says decidedly. He thinks that she doesn't know him as well as she thinks she does. He can admit though. That was a low blow.

"What if I do?" He challenges.

"There's nothing left for us here. We dedicated our life to the law and look how that turned out for us," she replies, "Neither of us are pursuing our dreams anymore. We shouldn't give up."

"We have a son," he reasons, "I have a decent paying job. I can provide for us."

"Shouldn't we get to be happy instead of just living decent lives?" She replies.

He sighs, the air leaving his chest in such a rush that it nearly knocks the wind out of him. He doesn't understand where she's coming from. He is happy, they have more than they ever knew they wanted. He can't stand here and listen to her tell him that she's so incredibly unhappy with the life they have. He lightly shakes his head, staring at her long and hard, before turning on his heel and fleeing from her apartment as quickly as possible.

* * *

She tries to call him four, five, ten times but he doesn't answer. Her desperation burns on her skin. She wants to make him hear her out. She doesn't know what else to do, so she dresses herself into a black dress and a pair of heels. The clothing belongs to a catalogue from four seasons ago, but it still fits and she can still rock it. She goes into Christopher's bedroom and she shakes him awake.

"Come here, Sweetheart," she mutters, lifting him from his bed. She grabs her purse and carries him out of the apartment. She secures the lock and descends the stairs, reaching the street with a hand in the air to hail a cab.

It's been three hours since Harvey stormed out of her apartment, still early enough in the evening that taxi cabs are tearing down her street. She expertly opens the door while balancing her son tightly in her embrace. She slips her purse into the backseat first and climbs in quickly behind her bag. She mutters Harvey's address and the car takes off. A shiver skates through her. She didn't fully think this through.

The ride takes too long for her liking. What if he isn't even home? What if he's drowning his sorrows in a bar halfway between their apartments and she's just left standing outside of his apartment with their sleeping child draped in her arms like an idiot? She's foolish…for all of it. For pursuing her dreams, for moving across the country, for having sex with Harvey after nearly 2 years of it working perfectly fine the way they've been coasting through this version of their relationship. She was foolish and selfish for pursuing her dreams. It was selfish of her and it's hurting everyone. She should have discussed it with him before making the decision.

There isn't a single argument she can make in her defense against this retired lawyer, and she knows she doesn't have a leg to stand on. But something inside of her just won't let her turn back as she's already plucked Christopher from his bed and carted him to his father's apartment. She is stupidly committed to hashing this out with him and she won't leave until they come to some kind of agreement.

She digs through her purse with one hand to find some cash to hand to the cab driver and hands it to him when he stops the car outside of Harvey's apartment. She pushes the car door open, grabs the handles of her purse, and secures Christopher tightly to her chest before exiting the car. Someone is leaving the building as she approaches it and they hold the door open for her, seeing that her hands are full. She nods her head and mutters a thanks as she enters the apartment building.

She climbs the stairs carefully, the weight of Christopher becoming heavier with each step. She isn't used to carrying almost 30lbs for so long. She usually has Harvey to carry their precious cargo. She carefully repositions Christopher to her other shoulder and stares at his door, wondering if he's even on the other side of it. She swallows and lifts a hand and knocks it against the door. It takes an elongated 30 seconds before the door swings open.

"Shit," he mutters, moving to take Christopher from her. He motions her to come in with a tilt of his head. He takes a step back to make room for her and she steps inside. "What are you doing here?"

"I tried to call," she replies.

"I know," he says, deadpanned. She shuts the door as she proceeds into his apartment and follows him as he carries Christopher to his bedroom. Harvey slips Christopher into his bed and pulls the sheets up to his neck before turning and leading her out of the bedroom. "What's left to be said? You made it pretty clear that you're not happy with the way things are."

"We pursued your dream," she counters. He plops down on the couch in front of a glass of scotch on the coffee table. She hadn't noticed the glass before. He's been drinking. He doesn't drink like he used to. No telling how many he's had. "Shouldn't I get a chance to pursue mine."

"I never kept you from pursuing acting," he snaps, leaning forward on the couch. He's fuming, extremely annoyed that she's revisiting this conversation. She stands taller, preparing herself for him to throw a few low blows. "I went to every show so don't act like I didn't support you. If you wanted to act, you didn't have to move away to do that."

"Harvey," she replies. She lightly shakes her head, and looks away from him. He's mad, she gets it, but he doesn't get it. She didn't pursue her dream because she cared about him more. She cares about him more than anyone but even he isn't doing what he wants to be doing. At least one of them should. "Please."

"You're taking my son from me," he says.

"I don't want to," she counters, "I want you to come with us."

"I want you to stay," he says, stubbornly, "If you cared about me, you would stay."

"That's bullshit," she growls. He reaches for his glass and promptly downs the rest of the contents. She sighs. He makes eye contact with her, challenges her to look away first. She moves closer to him and sits on the couch beside him, her knees pressing against his. "Of course I care about you. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," he admits.

She nods slowly, her hand trailing to his thigh and resting on it. She squeezes his leg comfortingly, surprised that he's letting her so close to him without a physical recoil. She remembers the days he once recoiled every time she was within inches of touching him. She smiles fondly at the memory.

"You don't recoil anymore," she says.

He looks at her then, eyes softening as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. He asks, "What?"

"Nothing," she replies, deciding that it's better not to address it. They have grown more comfortable over the years. She really can't remember a time before her weekend in Los Angeles that she went a day without seeing him. She feels like she measures time by the moments with him. "Why can't you come with us?"

"You know why," he counters.

"Harvey," she says sternly, a warning catching in her throat. She draws her hand from his thigh. He follows her movement, leaning his shoulder more heavily against hers as he settles his hand on her knee. "That isn't fair. You're robbing all of us of our happiness."

"I don't deserve to be happy," he mutters.

The weight of his words settles on her shoulders. He's always had this mentality and she's never agreed with it. She's always wanted him to be happy but he's never exactly been forthright with what that means to him. She wonders if he too wonders happiness in moments or if he needs it to be a lasting feeling. He's never told her and she's always been to afraid to ask.

Her heart drops to her stomach. He's never been very good at listening when he's in this head space. He's the most stubborn person she's ever met but she wouldn't trade him for anything. He's the father of her child, she's always accepted him for who he is both good and bad attributes, always wanted him exactly the way he is.

"I want you to be happy," she finally utters.

His gaze traces her face. She feels the heat of his eyes boring into her, and she braces herself for the inevitable break of eye contact. His relentless touch pushes up her thigh, fingers dipping ever so slightly into the space between her legs. He leans towards her then, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips and she wets them on instinct. His mouth touches hers, his tongue immediately sweeping over her expectantly parted lips.

His hand slips up her thigh beneath the hem of her dress, and she rubs her thighs together as she attempts to deepen the kiss. She pushes herself to her feet and straddles his lap, his hands falling onto both of her thighs. She pushes her hands up his torso, fingertips grasping at his chest through his shirt.

"The dress," he says.

"It's for you."

* * *

She's startled awake by a sudden movement in the bed. She rolls onto her back, the barrier behind her now a vacated space, to peek at where the man may have gone. She absently lifts her hands and rubs at her eyes, squinting in the darkness as broad shoulders become engulfed in the shadows.

She feels exposed in his clothes – his thin black undershirt so loose on her. After he'd left her rattled hours ago, not from the sex but from the admission that she is what makes him happy, he'd asked her to stay. Her guilt had encouraged her to say yes. Her foolishness had encouraged her to fall asleep in his warm arms in the middle of his bed.

She blinks rapidly and he returns before her mind can even truly grasp that he's left, their child huddled in his arms. She pushes herself up a little in the bed, hoping the movement will activate her brain into action. She catches a glimpse of his wide smile in the light seeping in through the window.

"Hey," Harvey says, "He was-"

"Mommy?" Christopher mutters sleepily. He immediately stretches his arms in her direction at the sight of her. Harvey airplanes the kid to the colder side of the bed and lowers him to the mattress. Christopher's little hands immediately slide around her neck, clinging to her like he hadn't seen her days.

"I'm here, baby," she replies. Harvey lets go of Christopher and returns to the side of the bed on the opposite side of her. When he lifts the blanket, a gust of cold air hits her and skates through her spine. He seems to notice her body's involuntary reaction because he slides into the space behind her and presses his upper body against her side. "What's the matter?"

She lifts a hand to his face to brush the hair out of his eyes. Christopher's fingers against the neck loosens. She realizes that he's fallen asleep almost the moment he settled into her arms. She pulls the blanket up to his shoulders and turns her gaze to Harvey's.

"And just like that, he's back to sleep," she says.

"He always misses you when he's here," Harvey replies, "he always wakes up in the middle of the night and comes in here looking for you."

"I'm sorry," she says, somberly, "That really isn't fair to you."

"I don't usually mind the company," he says with a shrug, he props his head up with his elbow and reaches a hand to her stomach. He rests his palm there, the material of the shirt soft beneath the pads of his fingers.

The last time they shared a bed was the last few weeks of her pregnancy and the first few weeks after Christopher was born. She sometimes felt like one of them or both of them were missing out on so much with Christopher, even though they spent a lot of time all together to avoid that possibility. He missed Christopher's first word and she missed his first steps. She doesn't want him to miss out on anything else just like she doesn't want to miss out on anything else.

"My agent found this cute little two bedroom near Beverly Hills," she tells him. His hand stills on her stomach and she feels his breath on her neck in a quick spirt of hot air. He still doesn't want to talk about it, but they move in less than two weeks. Everything needs to be said. "We have to talk about it, Harvey."

He huffs again. He says, "I know."

"I understand that you don't want to just pick up and move across the country, but-"

"I can't leave Mike here to rot in prison," he interjects. He lifts his hand from her stomach and rolls onto his back. The movement is noticeable, painful, but he hasn't distanced himself completely. She can tell he's open to the conversation because he hasn't left the room, but he knows the conversation isn't going to go the way he wants it to. "There's nothing I can say to get you to stay?"

"This is just something that I have to do," she says somberly. She sighs in defeat. He isn't going to listen to her. "You could at least come with us, help me get Christopher settled in."

"Yeah," he breathes, "We'll see."

* * *

She says goodbye to a million different people, a million different ways, but not to him. Never to him. And he agreed, begrudgingly, over the course of a week that he would at least see them off. He was supposed to be here two hours ago.

She has been sitting on the stoop of her apartment building for the last two hours without even the smallest of hints that he's going to show up, Christopher at her said growing increasingly more annoyed that all of his things are packed up in a box somewhere so he can't entertain himself. And she's getting pissed. And she can't wait around for him forever. But she cannot leave without telling him goodbye. He would hate her forever.

She looks over at the uhaul truck, packed from brim to brim with their items, and sighs in annoyance. She really doesn't want to drive this massive vehicle across the country. She doesn't even have a valid driver's license and used Harvey's information as she remember's it.

She waits for twenty more minutes before a yellow cab pulls up in front of her house. The door pops open and Harvey steps out. She's mad at him, but she can't let that be their last moment together in this city after all of these years.

She rises from her sitting position on the staircase and closes the space between them. She comes to a stop near the back of the uhaul, fidgeting with the keys in her hand. He drives her crazy.

"Sorry I'm late," he says by way of greeting, "I had to take care of a few things."

He hands some cash to the cab driver and closes the door. The yellow cab speeds off. She notices a bag in his hand and she's confused, extremely confused.

"You're late," she states, "We needed to be on the road two hours ago."

"I know," he says. He's not going to apologize again, she knows. He isn't even really sorry. He was just trying to be polite. "I had to go see Mike. They took longer than usual."

She nods in understanding, not feeling that it's actually a good excuse. "Buddy, come tell your dad bye."

"No," Harvey snaps, "I'm coming with you."

Just like that, he reaches for the keys and takes them from her hand. His late arrival suddenly makes more sense. Even though she doesn't like it, she will give him a pass. She nods slowly, suddenly realizing that she has no idea how they're all going to fit into this vehicle to travel across the country.


	3. Made

It's cramped. Very cramped, to say the least. Christopher's little elbow has been digging into her rib cage for the last three hours. He fell asleep on her lap, head using her thigh as a makeshift pillow. They've only been driving for 6 hours but it's dark and she's extremely tired. And her stomach is growling.

"Maybe we should stop for the night," she finally says after a few minutes. He nods slowly, clearly still annoyed. She sighs and runs her hand through Christopher's hair. "You're gonna have to get over it sometime, Harvey. I love you and I hate seeing you upset, but I have to do this."

"I know," he replies solemnly, constrained. He flips the turn signal to indicate that he's getting off of the highway at the next exit. As he slows down, he shifts his gaze to her. He says, "i'm proud of you, Donna. I know I haven't been acting like it but I am proud of you for never giving up on your dreams."

"Thanks, Harvey," she replies. She smiles softly to herself and lifts her hand from Christopher. She reaches for Harvey's hand then, more surprised when he meets her halfway and entwines their fingers together.

* * *

He follows her lead into the lobby of an Embassy Suites, Christopher in his arms with the little boy's head on his shoulder. The keys to the rental vehicle jingles in his pocket. Donna had hired a moving company to take the bulk of her stuff earlier in the morning and had opted to take the remainder in a much smaller uhaul. She should have sprung for a larger moving truck and just flown across the country. But the lifestyle they had once afforded had totally changed since losing their jobs and having Christopher.

He saddles up beside her as she approaches the front desk, determined to pay for their stay in the hotel no matter her attempts. They may not be married. They may not even technically be a couple. But he loves her a great deal. And right now, he would do almost anything to be with her.

"Hi," the concierge greets, "Welcome to the Embassy Suites. How may I help you?"

"Hi, we need a room," she says before he can even say anything.

"One of those fancy ones," he adds. He wants to add that his girl is on her way to a big job in daytime television. He wants to brag that the mother of his child is going to be a big star. He wants to be supportive even though he's mad at her. "You know, not the Five Seasons fancy but need a key card to get to the floor fancy."

"Harvey," she says, tone warning, "That's not necessary."

"Come on," he says, "You deserve it. I've been an ass."

"You drove passed that Motel Six," she reminds him.

"Two beds," Harvey says then, turning his attention back to the woman behind the counter.

"All I have is a room with a king size bed and a pull out sofa," the woman says.

"That'll do," he says, holding Christopher tighter so he can reach for his wallet. He gives it a go for a few moments before he concedes. He gives Donna a pointed look while jutting his pocket with his wallet in it towards her hand. "Help?"

She smirks and shakes her head. She reaches into his pocket and fishes out the wallet. He nods as she opens it up and begins thumbing through his credit cards. She knows exactly which one to use. She knows all of the ones that he has. They are, by every movement and each unspecified decision, a couple. She peels out the black card and slides it across the counter. He watches her get the keys in exchange for her signature and follows her to the elevator.

Once they get to the room, he lays Christopher down on the couch and follows her into the sunlit bedroom. It's still a little before sunrise and he knows that she's starving, but their bags are still downstairs in the vehicle. He wants to talk to her, but he doesn't even know what to say. He's been thinking about how to tell her his thoughts since he got in the car with them, but he just couldn't open his mouth to say anything other than that he is proud of her.

And he is proud of her. She never gave up on what she wanted even when their world around them crumbled. She wanted a child and she wasn't afraid to say something. And he's incredibly lucky that she chose to have a kid with him. In the long run, he knows that he's really surprised them both. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for Christopher. Or her. He hopes she knows that.

"Donna?" He finally says, shutting the bedroom door behind him, only leaving it open a crack just in case. Christopher really is too small to just be asleep on the couch without supervision. He's nearing 3, but he still has some sleeping issues from time to time.

"Yeah?" She says, breathlessly as she turns when she reaches the window. She leans back against the wall. Despite his better judgment he steps closer and closer until he loses all traces of thought. He's a fool.

"I, um," he stops, releases a shaky breath, "I meant what I said in the car. I'm proud of you. I want to be with you. I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?" And she crosses her arms in front of her chest like she's challenging him. He nearly leans back on his heels but he keeps himself upright. He has to open up to her.

"I don't want to lose you," he says. He lifts his hands to the window sill on either side of her. He can't even help the way he wants to be in close proximity to her. She made a fool of him but he still only wants to be with her. He drops his forehead to hers and says, "You made this huge decision without me and I'm just scared you're trying to leave me behind."

"I couldn't," she says, as though it's that simple. His eyes drift closed because he's afraid to look at her. She lifts her hands to jaw and slides her fingers over his cheeks, angling his face upwards to look at him more clearly. "I can't imagine going a day without you."

"How did you know?" He asks, not quite making the question clear. How did she know he would come with her? How does she know him better than he knows himself.

"I had a hunch," she admits, "You took a little longer to prove me right than I wanted but..."

"Mike told me I'd be an idiot to not come with you," he says.

"I raised him right," she muses. He can feel her lips curve upward into a smile. It tugs at something in his chest. He loves when she smiles. She presses her lips against his cheek, letting them linger there for such a long time. He begins to count. He makes it to 20 before he feels her lips leave his skin. "Did you get any closure?"

"I have almost everything I've ever wanted," he says.

"What's missing?"

"I don't have you," he says barely above a whisper.

"You do," she reassures, "You always have."

* * *

She's wary about leaving Christopher on the sofa by himself. He sleeps in a bed he's too young for at home, but that one is much lower to the ground than that sofa. And with Harvey's arm tightly around her waist, his even breathing sticking to the back of her neck, she really doesn't want to move from his embrace. They've never really gotten to sleep like this and she wants to revel in it while it lasts.

And Christopher's sleeping patterns are pretty steady. He doesn't move around a lot for an almost 3 year old. When he sleeps, he sleeps hard. She's always been grateful for that. He's a mostly ideal kid. And Harvey has helped make parenting so ideal. She thinks her move to LA is honestly the first fight regarding parenting they've ever had.

And she gets it, why he would be upset. She didn't even talk to him about it and they talk about everything. But she didn't want to get her hopes up and break his heart for nothing. She honestly didn't even think that she would get it. The part was calling for someone much younger than her so she really thought it would be a long shot.

Reluctantly, she shifts beneath the weight of his arm. He expels an annoyed breath like she's caused him discomfort. His breath presses against her skin and she realizes that they've never really been like this. They've only had a few nights together. She really doesn't want to move from his arms anyway. Seeing as every moment they've had together has been nearly interrupted by their son.

"What's wrong?" He asks, an annoyed tone blatantly obvious.

"Nothing," she says. She doesn't sound convincing, she knows. He squeezes her side just below her breast, thumb only barely digging into her ribcage. This is the largest bed she's ever seen and they're huddled in the smallest space. "You sure he'll be okay on that sofa?"

"Stop worrying," he replies, "We've got a good kid. He will be fine."

"There's a whole bed on the other side of you," she points out. He doesn't say anything in response, just buries his chin into her shoulder and slides the tip of his nose over her jaw. He sucks in a deep breath and pulls her more into his chest. She warns, "Don't toy with my emotions, Harvey. I'm sensitive."

His knee slips between her thighs and she turns into her side to face him. His fingers press against the small of her back, urging her to press more fully against him. He would never toy with her, she knows, anyone but her. She pushes her own hand over his hip as she pushes her hips against his. She reminds herself that he isn't staying with her forever.

"I just want to hold you for a bit," he says, softly.

She lifts her other hand to his prickly face. He lets his facial hair grow out more. He always looks a bit more rugged these days. He's just as attracted as he's always been. Maybe even more so. He looks more relaxed now, less uptight, despite his inner turmoil with Mike going to prison. She knows he thinks it's unfair that Mike got 5 years while he got everything he could have ever wanted.

"Hold me?" She baits, quickly switching the octaves in her throat, "Or hold me?"

"I'm fine with either," he says, catching the quite obvious connotation.

Her hand lifts to his 5 o'clock shadow and she sighs heartily. He hasn't kissed her for days and part of her just aches for his contact. She pushes her thumb into his chin, bringing his head down more. She kisses him then, softly. His lips are warm and smooth. He doesn't deepen the kiss and neither does she. They just both let their lips linger pressed together.

His fingers press harder against her back, and she sighs against his mouth. She can feel that he's getting turned on, but he doesn't seem to care too much about furthering the moment. She could stay here with him until they are dying.

"I don't want this to end," she whispers. His mouth is still near hers, his breath lingering on her lips. She can feel the tears prick the corners of her eyes. "I do love you."

"Stop," he says, pleading. He quickly kisses her again, not seeming to release his hold on her. She thinks he doesn't realize how scared she also is. "I will always choose you."

* * *

The drive has been extremely long and after nearly 3 days they've arrived at the address of the little two bedroom that her agent gave her. It's cute, and in a safe neighborhood. She doesn't think she will live here long, especially after she gets a steady paycheck. And especially if Harvey does stay, they will need more room. He hasn't said either way and she's honestly too afraid of pushing him away to ask.

The movers arrived before her and unloaded their truck. She's a little annoyed that they dumped off her stuff and left without a trace. At least all of their things have been left behind. All that's left to unpack is what's in their uhaul. Hopefully she can get Harvey to help her move the remaining things in. She can tell he's annoyed too when he walks Christopher up to the house and sees just how careless they were with her things. He doesn't say anything, but she watches him become immediately tense. His jaw flexes.

"Harvey, it's fine. I just want to get this stuff unpacked and settled in," she says. She closes the front door. She comes up behind him and scoops Christopher up into her arms. "Come on, let's take a look."

They browse the house. From the entryway it immediately takes them into the living room. There is an extremely wide doorway which takes them into the kitchen to the left and a small dining area to the right. In the back corner of the living room is another hallway. To the right is the master bedroom and to the left, the back of the house, is what will be Christopher's bedroom. It's decently sized, only slightly larger than their New York apartment, and about the same size as Harvey's apartment.

"It's nice," Harvey says, "I'm gonna get the rest of your stuff in so we can relax."

* * *

Harvey had fallen asleep not too soon after she managed to make her bed. He was fresh out of the shower, tired from bringing in the remainder of her things, and he didn't even bother to make it under the blanket. She woke up half an hour ago and he's still passed out. She isn't even unpacked and she already has to show up for her first day, but they're sending a car at least. It should be here in half an hour.

She goes back into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. She adds her signature splash of vanilla and carries it back into her new bedroom. She sets the mug down on the night stand beside where Harvey fell asleep before lowering down onto the bed beside him. She lifts a hand to his back and slips her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt to rouse him awake.

"Harvey," she says, softly. She already knows he's going to be extremely sore today, and she feels awful about leaving him alone to care for Christopher all day. He moves his head towards her, pushing onto his side with a groan. "Hey."

"Hi," he says with a yawn, "How long have I been asleep?"

"About eleven hours," she says. It's nearly 7am and she he fell asleep before he even had the opportunity to get anything into his stomach. Unfortunately, he will have to find somewhere around town to get something to eat. "I have to go soon."

He sighs and lifts a hand to scratch at his eyes. His free hand reaches out and lands on her knee. It's like he just doesn't quite register what's going on. He yawns again.

He says, "Have a good first day."

He fully rolls over onto his back and sits upright. He lifts his hand into her hair and guides her forward. He kisses her soundly on the lips. She could get used to this.

She thinks back to his first day at the agency. He was nervous for the first time in years, and it took everything in her not to tease him. They hadn't even discussed the idea of Christopher then. She wonders if she can convince him to relocate there with them.

* * *

Although he's tired and sore, Christopher just doesn't seem to want to let him relax. He didn't fall asleep for about another hour after Donna left before Christopher was up and screaming for the day. He doesn't even know what to do with the time that Donna is at work. Everything is still packed.

He would go grocery shopping but the only vehicle he has is the uhaul. He should really take that to the nearest uhaul and at least get a rental car for now. He doesn't really want to do anything at all but he knows that he nee to do something to occupy them today.

"Daddy has some things to do today, Buddy," Harvey says, scooping Christopher up in his arms. He carries him towards the front door, not quite even sure what they're needing to do. "And maybe we can surprise mommy when she gets home from work."

Christopher is compliant in their quest. Harvey returns the uhaul and calls Enterprise where he rents an SUV. He puts Christopher's car seat in the back and heads to the grocery store. He doesn't have much of a list but he could at least pick up a few basic things like bread and cheese and lunch meat. He doesn't much feel like cooking and he's sure Donna won't either. She really hasn't worked much since he left the firm, and since Christopher her work load has decreased even more.

When they get home, Christopher is asleep, having an impromptu nap no doubt encouraged by the car ride. It's really too late in the afternoon to let Christopher sleep, but he goes ahead and carries him into the house so he can st least carry the groceries in. He did manage to grab Donna's favorite bottle of wine at the store.

He's been giving it a lot of thought, the relocating. He could do this with her. He could be with her. He could move across the country for her, for his son, for their son. The problem isn't that he doesn't love her, that's never really been the problem. And if he did decide to stay, there is a lot of things for him to tie up back in New York. His agency might not even want to transfer him anymore.

He didn't tell her a year ago when they approached him about moving to Los Angeles to take a higher position in their national firm. It wasn't even a thought that entered his mind. He couldn't imagine leaving Christopher, nor could he imagine leaving her.

He would do anything she asked him to. The only problem is that he never really felt like she asked.

* * *

The bathtub is larger than hers back in New York, so Harvey suggests repeatedly that she utilize it while he goes through the messy routine of getting Christopher to sleep. The only good thing about his sleeping pattern being so thrown off from the trip across the country was that he reset his schedule a hell of a lot faster than either one of them will get to.

The tub is still running with hot water when Harvey comes into the bathroom. Briefly, she thinks that if this were just a few months ago she might feel a bit exposed. He doesn't say anything, just offers her a smile before he pulls his shirt off over his head. She dumbfounded, her words catch in her throat.

"Christopher is asleep," he says, "Room for one more?"

"You're lucky my new bathtub is bigger than my old one," she remarks, reaching up through the bubbles and turning the water off.

If the water gets much higher, it'll overflow when he gets in it. She honestly never thought Harvey would be the bathtub sharing type. He strips the rest of his clothes off and slips into the tub behind her. She rests back against him, immediately surprised when he wraps his arms around her torso.

"Damn it," he mutter suddenly, "I meant to bring you a bottle of wine."

"It's okay," she reassures, "You don't have to keep being so sweet to me, Harvey. I'm the one who messed up."

"No," he replies. She can feel him lightly shake his head. He leans down then, putting his mouth closer to her neck. "You didn't do anything wrong. Really. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy," she insists, "And I'm so happy you decided to come with me."

"What do you want me to do?" He asks.

His question strikes her, like their roles have reversed somehow. She has always been the one asking him what he wanted from her. She wasn't really prepared to be asked a question like that.

"I don't know, Harvey," she says, as gentle as possible, "What do you want to do?"

"I want to be with my son," he starts, "And I want to be with you. But how do you expect this to go? You expect me to go back, sell my apartment and bring my things here?"

She hesitates. Perhaps for a little too long. She can feel his grasp on her loosen and she prepares for him to pull away. For a second, she forgets how they ever even got here.

"Harvey," she says forcefully, wrapping her hand around his wrist to keep him there, "I don't expect anything from you. I want you to be here with me, with Christopher. If you want to sell your apartment and move your things here, then do it. I will make room. This can be our house."

"How can I just up and leave my life behind?" He muses. She can hear the uncertainty in his voice. She knows he's struggling with everything.

"Because you have me," she says, "I'm not going anywhere, Harvey. What can I do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few convincing arguments you could make," he mutters.

"Always a lawyer," she replies.

* * *

She feels ridiculous staring into his eyes like her high school crush just asked her to prom. Especially because he didn't much say anything at all. She's exhausted anyway, but she wants to talk. It's like she doesn't want the moment to just pass them by.

"I was thinking," she finally says, and he perks up, "We can put your record collection in the dining room."

"I'm not sure this house is big enough for the both of us," he replies, "It was already hard enough to downsize."

"Perhaps you keep your apartment," she says, "We would have somewhere to stay when we go to New York. Plus, you own it."

"How much do you really think we'd go to New York?" He says, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

"I could make it big," she replies defensively, "Don't you have faith in me?"

She playfully slaps his chest and he catches her hand quickly. He pulls her hand to his shoulder and rests it there. He moves his hand down the front of her and pushes his fingers between her thighs. She parts her legs at his command, pleasantly surprised when he moves closer to her and settles between her thighs.

"Do you think you can get a job here?" She asks.

"The L.A. office has been after me for a year. I'm sure transferring won't be a problem," he admits cheekily.

She should be mad...or at least annoyed that he too has been keeping secrets. Granted, he turned the firm down whereas she didn't say no to her job opportunity. Maybe he is better than her after all.

She's taken by him. She sighs. She says, "L.A. will be waiting for you. And so will I."

"Donna," he says bluntly. He softens almost immediately. Her eyebrows pop up on her forehead in question. He adds, "I love you."


End file.
